


Maiden Voyage

by cresscaptain



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Deceiving Sansa (but she feels bad about it), F/M, People Will Die, Sansa has a son, Shy Jon, Titanic AU, Unwed relations have occured before this takes place, i'm not a historian, sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:49:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13788120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresscaptain/pseuds/cresscaptain
Summary: 1912: After running away from home with a boy she later realized was full of shit, Sansa had taken on a job as a maid in a big household when it turned out she was pregnant. Scared of the shame she might bring on her family, she takes her son and leaves for the ‘new World’ – on the RMS Titanic.





	1. Meeting.

She walked the deck on a beautiful sunny day, turning her head toward the late afternoon glow while little Ned toddled beside her, holding her hand.

People were everywhere, people in fancy clothing in every colour and people in less nice-looking clothing, like hers. She saw a couple of boys chasing a ball, yelling, shouting and laughing and they reminded her of her brothers back home. One of the boys noticed her smiling at them and he tipped his hat to her. She giggled, and Ned looked up at her, smiling also, clutching her hand tighter.

She was happy, she realized. Not the same way she’d been happy with her parents, but a different kind of happy. A new kind of happy.

It wasn’t that her work back at home had made her unhappy, but now, she could dream bigger and she was so excited.

They continued their slow journey over the deck. Ned’s small legs weren’t capable of walking as much as toddling, but she enjoyed the pace. Many people were out to enjoy the beautiful weather, like them. She recognized a couple of people, having seen them when they had eaten or just around.

Ned pointed and giggled at a woman with a huge (and quite hideous) hat, which made her smile before tilting her head back to breathe in the fresh breeze coming from the sea.

Ned tried to mimic her and nearly tipped over, which sent her into giggles as she picked him up and softly tickled his tummy.

He was safe, she thought. Both of them were safe and free. Ready for a new life.

Carefully, she placed Ned on a bench, sitting down next to him. An old woman was also sitting there, and she nodded her head at her, trying to make up for the lack of asking for permission.

She breathed in the smell of the ocean again, trying to soak it up. She knew that in a few days, she’d be sick of it, so now was one of her only chances to truly enjoy it.

“Mama!” Ned cried and jumped off the bench with his small legs. “Mama!” At a year, he wasn’t capable of saying much more than ‘Mama’. He ran over the deck toward the boys with the ball before stumbling. She jumped up in horror as she saw him about to fall, knowing that she could do nothing from the place she stood when a man came running and scooped Ned up out of the air at the last second. She inhaled deeply and ran toward the deck to fetch him.

“Alright there, young fellow?” The man asked in a strong English accent, smiling down at Ned. “You almost went overboard.”

“Sorry,” she said to the man when she reached both of them, out of breath and probably looking a mess. “Thank you, sir.”

The man looked up at her, and then his eyes traveled downwards, over her neckline and down to her legs before staying on her face. When he noticed her noticing his gaze, he blushed furiously, the colour dyeing his neck and face a blotchy red patchwork of stains.

“Oh, you know how they can be,” he responded, a lot quieter than when he had spoken to Ned. A shy grin came over his face, followed by a blush. He seemed like he was even shyer now.

Altogether, he wasn’t bad looking. He had black curls that went everywhere and dark, kind eyes. His grin was crooked, his jaw chiseled and there was a shadow of a beard on his cheeks. He was built from what she could tell from under his shirt, a simple shirt and trousers, telling her that he too was from the poorer part of this ship, but they were of nicer fabric than her clothes. Still, it outlined his muscles beautifully, and other women might have swooned at the sight of him.

Not her, though. She was done with men, once and for all. They were skilled at tempting women into out-of-marriage activities and then fled the first chance they got. Ned was the product (one she would never give back, but still made under unfavourable circumstances) of her own history with such tempters. She needed to start their life over again, somewhere far away. Somewhere where no one knew or judged her and somewhere where no one knew her wedding ring was fake.

Quickly, she stretched her arms out for Ned. The young man smiled, this time looking into her eyes, and handed him to her.

“There we go, young man,” he said gently to Ned and Ned grinned up at him, as always open to trusting anyone coming his way. She, however, slung both her arms tightly around him, holding him against her chest. The man didn’t seem to notice, or just didn’t care, smiling at her easily while he leaned against the deck.

“So,” he said, his dark eyes reflecting the sun, “I have never met you on deck. Why’s that?”

She pressed Ned closer, carefully avoiding eye contact with the man. “Oh, it’s been cold, and I would like to avoid my son catching an illness.” One that would prevent them from entering America.

She immediately clamped her lips shut. She didn’t want to keep up a conversation with this man. He might get behind her lie of being married and she really didn’t want that to happen.

The man laughed. “Understandable.” For some reason, he was still smiling, still staring at her. A heartbeat later, he held out his hand. “Jon Snow, at your service.”

She took it, feeling dread well up in her. He was very good looking and his hand felt rough and nice. “I’m Sansa – well, Mrs. Sansa Stark. And this is my son, Mr. Ned Stark.” She stroked a soft hand over the auburn hair and Ned buried his face in her neck. She hoped that the Mrs, a marriage title, would keep him at bay, although a part of her protested.

Still, he (Mr. Jon Snow) kept the conversation going. “So, are you doing alright, here on this big ship? It can be quite a transition, after all.”

She nodded, a little more relieved to see in which way their conversation was headed. No dangerous territory. “Yes, it’s obviously a transition, but Ned, I … and Mr. Stark are having a splendid time now. There is not much to see, but it’s still very amazing.”

“I see.” Mr. Snow nodded and smiled at Ned, even making a goofy face at him. God, he was sweet as well. She couldn’t handle this. “Is your husband down in your room?”

She nodded, willing herself not to stiffen up. “Yes, indeed. I believe he is reading. He was…not feeling all too well this morning, so I sent him to bed.”

Mr. Snow chuckled. “Wise choice. If you were my wife, I’d also listen to you.”

She nodded, and carefully took a step backward, not wanting to venture further into imaginary territory. What on earth was it like, having a husband? “Yes, indeed. I’m sorry, sir, it was an honour to meet you and thank you again, but we really must go.”

He took a step back, understanding in his eyes. “Oh, I understand. It was only that-” He hesitated, giving his shoes a quick glance. “Well, I thought you could do with some company. You looked, well, happy, and, shared happiness is greater happiness, right?”

She couldn’t stop the smile that the words brought to her lips. “Mr. Snow, sir, am I in need of company or are you? Do you wish for me to share what happiness I have with you?”

He flushed a dark red colour. “I’m sure you must get on with your life. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your time from your son or deprive your husband of your presence.”

“That’s quite alright,” she said. She didn’t know why. This was dangerous territory. She had let herself be seduced once before by a handsome man and the idea of romance. For him, she had given up her beloved family and all the comfort of her own life. She would not do so again.

Ned poked his head out from her neck and glanced at Mr. Snow before turning away again, giggling. Sansa thought he may be playing a secret game of hide-and-seek again. It had been one of his favourite activities as a baby.

He did it again and this time Mr. Snow noticed. Sansa feared for just a second that he might be offended, but as Ned turned away again, giggling, Mr. Snow held a finger to his lips and snuck around Sansa, smiling in a way that made her knees feel a little weak. In the next moment, he peaked over her shoulder, right at where Ned was hiding. He squealed in delight as he noticed Mr. Snow peeking back at him over Sansa’s shoulder and she couldn’t stop her own personal smile at his sound of absolute joy. Ned meant everything to her.

He and Mr. Snow appeared to continue their little peek-a-boo game for a couple of minutes, and then Mr. Snow reappeared in front of her. He was smiling, the expression lighting up his entire face. She smiled back at him.

Ned swiveled around. “Mama!” he cried out. She kissed his proffered cheek gently before holding him closer, thankful that Mr. Snow had appeared to put him in such a good mood. Mr. Snow smiled right back at her.

“Well, Mrs. Stark, if you’re ever in the need of company, seek me out.” He sobered for a minute, his smile slipping ever so slightly. “As long as it doesn’t offend Mr. Stark, of course.”

Sansa breathed in hard. Just because she had (barely) survived the first man that had taken advantage of her didn’t mean she’d survive the second.

“I’m sorry,” she made herself say. “I don’t think – I’m sorry.”

Mr. Snow stepped back from her, nodding. “I understand.”

I don’t think you do, she thought. But she didn’t say it out loud.

She couldn’t say most things aloud these days. Somehow, looking into Mr. Snow’s eyes, it felt worse than it normally did.


	2. Second Meeting.

It was only a couple of days until Sansa met Jon Snow again.

She watched him from afar, as she had watched another man once: with keen interest, only this time, she knew what that keen interest meant and to what it could lead. 

And she would not go down that road again. She was done with such kind of men.

Maybe one day she would find a man who was comfortably appointed and who was willing to marry her before he took her to bed. Someone with no silly promises or vows of undying love that could be forfeited in the same breath.

Jon Snow did not seem like that man, yet he was probably more dangerous than even Ned’s own father.

He was a different sort of player, one who knew better than to promise the earth and the sky, one who knew how to by sly and creep up on his victims.

Or maybe he was just another working lad, on his way to a new future and a new job: either way he was dangerous beyond a capacity Sansa could defend herself from.

Ned seemed familiar with his profile already: he would grin and toddle toward him. Sansa took condolence in the fact that Ned was still young and he would soon forget Jon Snow, especially if there was a new world around them.

When Mr. Snow saw Ned, he would smile and laugh: sometimes he would pick him up and swing him around himself once. Ned would laugh even louder.

Sansa took care not to stand too close to those interactions lest she’d have to speak to Mr. Snow. Instead, she waited until Ned came toddling back to her like he always did. Mr. Snow would respectfully draw his hat to her and she would nod, then pick Ned up and go under decks, spending an afternoon entertaining him with books and small toys.

Altogether, although she had evaded its grasp for quite some time unbeknownst to herself, Mr. Snow’s presence seemed unavoidable. He was everywhere.

So it was no surprise when he came up to her one Sunday after they both had attended the service.

He drew his shabby hat. “Mrs. Stark, it is so very good to see you again.”

She swallowed heavily. “You as well, Mr. Snow.”

Mr. Snow looked around quickly, his eyes quickly catching on little Ned who was sleeping on her shoulder. While he loved the songs, he generally fell asleep during the sermon. “Is Mr. Stark not around?” His face took on a worried expression. “Is he still not well?”

Sansa smiled tightly. “He is not – he is not very religious, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh, I see,” he said quickly, looking to the ground as if he indeed saw. “Well, would he not attend to keep you company then?”

Sansa worried her lower lip. Was he trying to make her admit that she had, in fact, no husband to return to in her cabin?

“He is not…he wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet. Ned can cause quite some noise and I can, too, especially when I’m trying to calm him down. Mr. Stark doesn’t like noise that much.”

“Oh,” Mr. Snow said, looking absolutely stricken.

“It’s not as bad as I make it sound,” Sansa said quickly. “Just… the lack of space is getting to him.”

“Absolutely,” Jon said, nodding. “I think it’s getting to us all, a little, as much fun as we might have here.”

Sansa wanted to laugh. She could have fun when she was employed somewhere and had found a way to support her and Ned. Her meager savings had been spent on their tickets: there was no way she could afford to live idly at any time. She wished there was some kind of job she could take aboard, but she was too shy to ask for employment anywhere and otherwise, the only option would be…of the less savory variety. There were always men hungry for a woman who did that kind of work.

Sansa shivered internally. If it was what needed to be done for Ned, she would do it, and it wasn’t as if she was a virgin to begin with, but whoring felt a little extreme for just some extra money. Except if the men looked and acted like Jon Snow…

She shook the thought out of her head. Not even for Mr. Snow. Not that he’d ever ask.

“Do you have a wife, Mr. Snow? A child of your own, perhaps?” she asked, to turn the topic away from her imaginary husband and more toward things that might be a little more real. Unless he also carried a child conceived out of wedlock and a fake wedding band with him…

Mr. Snow smiled. “No. I wish, I like children and I’m sure I’d enjoy having a wife, but… the good ones are all already taken.” His smile turned a little wistful as he regarded her standing in the mid-day sun with Ned over her shoulder.

She shifted uncomfortably, which he noticed.

“Oh, he must be heavy. Can I help you, Mrs. Stark? Just let me carry him some of the way.”

She declined his offer and started walking, but he wasn’t shaken off that easily. Instead, he followed her.

Realizing he was probably about to ask more questions, she quickly wiped one out. “So, Mr. Snow, if there is no family, what is your reason for going to America?”

He was silent for a second and she secretly hoped that he would leave. She also (keeping it a secret from even herself) hoped that he would stay.

“A good friend of mine moved to America with his wife and son only a couple of months ago. They were the only persons I would call my family in any way, which is why I’m following them.” He was silent again. “I also have some real family. My father – I haven’t ever met him. I was raised by an uncle after my mum died. He left us to help his family in their business. I should work there with him.”

“Oh,” Sansa said quietly and carefully. There was nothing she could think of to say. “Well.” She thought of the fact that Ned would grow up without a father. Without any family but her by his side. Would he grow tired of her quickly, she wondered? Or would he love her all the more for staying with him?

“What are your reasons, Mrs. Stark?” he asked, probably for the same reason she had asked her question: to deflect from himself.

“My work – well, my husband’s work. We had made some savings and wanted to see the opportunities America would have to offer.”

He was quiet in for a moment. “Did you have no say in it?”

She really hadn’t. Ned’s father, she shuddered to call him that, had started spreading wild stories about her around town. She could not stay where she had been. Her family was already the talk of the society after Sansa had run away from home: she could not imagine the shame those stories had brought upon her parents and the rest of her family. Better for her to be far away so they could blame it all on her and tell people that she’d gone bonkers rather than to stay and watch her strong family collapse.

Sansa lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug, as best she could with Ned’s little head still resting on top of it. “It’s alright, really,” she said as she saw Mr. Snow’s expression. Maybe she was trying to convince herself as well. Okay, she was definitely also trying to convince herself. “It’s for the best.”

“Excuse me for saying this,” Mr. Snow said quietly, “but your husband sounds like he doesn’t know what he’s got.”

She nearly burst out laughing, especially when she realized that with Mr. Snow’s words, his neck had been turning red. “Oh, I’m sure he is aware of every inch,” she answered back playfully. Mr. Snow just smiled, but it was nice and open.

Deciding to take a break from carrying her heavy son, she settled on a small bench that had been set up with a spectacular view of the ocean (not that there was a place on this ship where one didn’t have the view of an ocean – it was just that this particular one was pretty fabulous). Mr. Snow hesitated for a second, then settled beside her.

“I have no notion when I annoy people,” he said hesitantly, “so when I annoy you, Mrs. Stark, tell me and I’ll leave you be.”

“You don’t annoy me,” she said, and it was true. The man she had so desperately been trying to get away from was not that scary, she realized. He was actually quite nice.

Quit it, Sansa, she told herself. She had to stay on high alert, especially with nice men.

But human contact, true human contact with someone other than Ned was a luxury these days and Sansa wanted to soak up just a couple more minutes with him.

She looked around the ship.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mr. Snow asked.

Sansa smiled, but it wasn’t a true smile. He seemed to realize this because he frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“I – I don’t like ships.”

“Oh.” Mr. Snow sat back again. “Is it ships in general or-”

“I don’t like being on one in the open sea.”

“Oh.”

He didn’t have time to say anything more because Ned made a small sound. It was the only warning she got before he slipped off her shoulder. He would have fallen from her grip altogether had Mr. Snow not quickly shot out and steadied him on her lap.

“Easy there, lad,” he said gently.

Ned yawned and blinked, looking more like a baby than the small child he was becoming far too quickly. Sansa felt the sudden urge to keep him small forever.

He settled into the crook of her elbow, lay across her lap and fell back asleep.

Mr. Snow settled back again, stroking one finger over her son’s warm cheek. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward,” he said softly. “I mean no disrespect to your husband or to you: I just simply think you are nice and interesting and smart. I truly would love to be your friend.”

She had denied him once before when he had made a similar offer.

“You’re very persistent,” she said this time.

“Yes. I – I'm sorry. I can also leave you be for the rest of your days.”

She raised her brows. “Like you did last time?”

Mr. Snow ducked his head shyly. “Yes, I am sorry about approaching you again.”

Sansa stroked through Ned’s hair absentmindedly. “My son likes you.”

“Don’t worry: small children tend to develop better taste as they grow up.”

She smiled at him. “Mr. Snow… I don’t know. I don’t know about my husband and the way he will see this…”

“Will you let your husband decide this for you also?”

He ducked his head as he said it as if he immediately wanted to take back the words, fish them from the air. But he made no statement that would take the words back: no words of apology.

And it was true: although Ned’s father had never been her husband, he was making the majority of her decisions. The one to go to America, for example, and the one to not mingle with the others on the ship. The one to never even leave a note of goodbye to her family as she left.

“I love my husband,” she said. It wasn’t untrue: for all his misgivings and short-comings and lies, he had given her Ned. She would always love him for that.

She could conveniently leave out half of the statement for Mr. Snow’s benefit.

“Of course,” he said. “I was never questioning it.”

“I just wanted to make that clear. That’s why I don’t know if I can be your friend, Mr. Snow.”

He ducked his head again, then raised it abruptly. From under his rough-spun shirt, he pulled a necklace made with a leather band. There was a small wolf attached to it.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he said. “If you decide to be my friend, you are allowed to give it back to me. If not, you have to keep it, or throw it overboard or whatever.”

She frowned. How would that be punishment?

When he dropped the necklace in her lap, she understood.

No matter how much everything inside her was against him, she didn’t want to be in his debt, God forbid, take anything from him that was worth something. But her only choice would be to be his friend.

“Mr. Snow!” she said, picking the necklace back up. “Take it back!”

He grinned. It was the grin that reminded her how dangerous he was.

“Will you be my friend then?”

“No!”

“Then you must keep it.”

He drew his hat in a salute, waved and was gone.

She fell back in her seat, annoyed but also impressed at how well he had fooled her.

Quickly, she studied the necklace. The wolf wasn’t made of any special metal: she would estimate the overall value to be pretty low. That, at least, made her feel better.

Finally, she decided to go take Ned into their cabin. There was no way she had the strength to face Mr. Snow again tonight.

It was April 14, 1912. The last day the Titanic had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> (Now comes the cringy self-promotion)  
> I have (just got) a blog in which I talk about my independent writing projects and about my own personal journey a little. Would you like to be friends? Come visit me! (See, told you it would be awkward)  
> https://wordpress.com/view/emilyann273239016.wordpress.com - sorry for all the numbers: I'm a struggling student who can't afford more.

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm going to finish this one!" - The Quitter.  
> "I'm going to comment on this one!" - The Average Non-Commenting Reader.  
> Let's both change our ways for this one, shall we?


End file.
